


ode to the coke dealer

by thanatopis



Series: ode to the coke dealer [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, It's very quick, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Resolved Sexual Tension, The Threesome Isn't Really Even A Threesome, Yakuza Hanzo and Genji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: Hanzo has a designer drug addiction, along with a convoluted attraction to his younger brother... It's the day that depends on if they mix well.





	

It’s early morning when Hanzo and Genji arrive at McCarran International in Las Vegas.

Hanzo’s suffering from a mind splitting headache after having been subjected to Genji’s juvenile word games for the past hour with little to no sleep on the plane. Exiting their private jet proves to be another type of hell; Hanzo expected it, but nothing prepares him for the oven-like plume of dry, hot air that makes him want to crawl back into the comfortably air conditioned cabin of the jet.

Hanzo descends down the stairs with a grimace. His hair hangs limp and greasy in front of his face as he tries not to trip or fall as the sun practically burns his eyes right down to the corneas. He hears Genji hiss and then curse as he closely follows behind, a slight stumble in his step.

“Holy shit--it’s fucking hot,” Genji says and Hanzo silently agrees.

It’s a small saving grace when Hanzo remembers that his sunglasses are hooked onto his unbuttoned dress shirt. Hanzo slides the expensively dainty frames onto the bridge of his nose as they strut across the tarmac, bodyguards a respectable distance behind. He hears Genji whine because he doesn’t have his own and turns his head, smirking meanly at his little brother over the curve of his shoulder. Genji snickers, sticking his tongue out at Hanzo in a childishly petulant manner. Hanzo barks a laugh and flips him off in a familiar routine of gestures he’s shared with Genji since they were young boys.

Mid-twenties and some things just never change, Hanzo supposes.

They find their escort easily enough; a middle-aged man with sunken in eyes and a fierce tan. He holds a sign held high reading, _Shimada Brothers_ , and greets them with a professionally polite hello when they introduce themselves as such.

The ride to the hotel is short, but Hanzo can’t keep his eyes open long enough to take in the various hotels, casinos, and far off mountains that remind him of Mars. He wakes from his short-lived nap with Genji rustling at his shoulder, and then hitting him insistently on his cheek when the former doesn’t work. Hanzo roughly bats him away with an annoyed click of his teeth, giving Genji a half-assed warning of a glare that falls flat. The sound of Genji’s amused laughter is interrupted by the slam of the heavy car door when Hanzo, agitated, steps out.

Hanzo is tired, which means he’s grumpier than usual.

“Are there two beds?” Genji asks. He seems to share the same sentiment as a yawn tears out of him, echoing loudly in the lobby, keys jingling in his hand.

Hanzo resists looking at his brother when they step into the elevator, keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead. He knows the answer, but hoards the information for Genji to guess upon. He shrugs casually, shoving his hands deep into his pants pockets.

“Does it really matter?” Hanzo asks, sardonic tilt to his mouth. “It’s not like we’re planning on staying here tonight.”

Hanzo feels Genji staring at him, the weight of those eyes almost a tangible, physical thing and in an utterly predictable way, Hanzo feels himself react to his brother’s attention. His body tingles, goosebumps dimpling along his arms and back as blood rises to the surface of his skin, making Hanzo’s face feel itchy and hot. Hanzo endures the building urge to meet that gaze and demand that Genji tell him what’s on his mind as he continues to uncharacteristically not say anything.

Their relationship hangs in an unfamiliar, unacknowledged balance as of late.

The catalyst of a fever dream night of complete debauchery and no keeping or tending of rightful barriers and boundaries. Hanzo hasn’t be able to stop thinking about it—about Genji—and he’s doing everything in his power to make sure his weakness doesn’t show.

It’s one thing to be simply unwise, but another to be purposely distasteful and Hanzo has already crossed that line more times than he’d like to admit.

The elevator dings when they reach their floor and Hanzo releases a quiet breath when he exits the newly claustrophobic space. Genji continues to stay nothing, and Hanzo doesn’t know whether to be thankful or not. His silence makes Hanzo uneasy and unsure like nothing else can.

Either way, his temples are pounding and his eyes sting from exhaustion. He’s not in the right mindset whatsoever to deal with the tension that hangs thick and convoluted between them.

Sleep first, then maybe he’ll confront himself about how ever since that night, Hanzo can’t stop fantasizing about what it would be like to snort coke off the curve of Genji’s ass. There’s a whole lot of other debauched and perverted fantasies Hanzo’s thought of—things one shouldn’t want when it involves their younger brother—but here he is, like a dog panting for water, desperate for it.

One thing’s for sure however; Hanzo will be high as fuck when he addresses the complexity of his feelings. He’ll be damned if he’s at all sober for that.

* * *

By the time they wake, the sun has completely set and the strip has come alive many feet beneath them.

Hanzo has already showered and groomed himself, taking a leisure moment to appreciate the view of the strip from so high above the ground as he waits for Genji to get ready.

As Genji exits out of the bathroom for the last time, Hanzo’s eyes can’t help but roam slowly up and down his cutting figure, his gaze purposely shuttered to hide away any desire that might shine through.

Genji’s dyed hair is perfectly styled in a way that’s supposed to look effortless, his ears are pierced with small neon purple studs, and his nails are painted a black, velvety color, two identical silver rings on each of his index fingers accentuating his elegant hands.

“About fucking time,” is all Hanzo says as he passes by Genji, making his way for the door.

The coke already working in Hanzo’s system sizzles its way through his veins, easing any anxiety and making him feel just about invincible, ready for anything or anyone. His insecurities melt away like rivulets of water, leaving nothing but a relaxed, cocksure attitude that borderlines on smug arrogance.

He gets a brief whiff of Genji’s cologne; an alluring mix of amber and cinnamon spice that makes his mouth water. The urge to bury his face into the crook of brother’s neck and bite and lick his way inside of Genji’s body to claim the space as his own is overwhelming. The image of it in Hanzo’s drug addled brain is a perfect combination of bloody and erotic. An involuntary shiver passes through him and settles in his cock.

Genji presses close to Hanzo’s side as they walk in synchronized tandem down the hallway towards the elevator.

When the chime rings and the doors slide open, there’s already two occupants; a couple, both giggling and uncomfortably touchy in that way all new couples are. It’s absolutely nauseating to Hanzo.

They shuffle awkwardly, caught, making room for Hanzo and Genji to fit comfortably with enough space between the two. Hanzo is extremely aware of how close Genji continues to stay beside him, and it only gets worse as Genji slowly comes to rest his chin on Hanzo’s shoulder like a lover just might.

The couple across from them isn’t paying attention nor do they care, but it still feels illicit, like Genji’s doing something he knows he shouldn’t in front of people.

Hanzo grinds his back molars together until his jaw starts to hurt.

“They probably would’ve started fucking if we hadn’t got on.” Genji murmurs casually in Japanese. His lips are a hair’s breadth away from the shell of Hanzo’s ear, warm and minty, inspiring various tingles and shivers down the length of his spine. “The only reason she’s not bent over and getting that pussy pounded is because we’re here.” Genji hums, considering the couple. “She’s got fat tits too...Hn, shame. I’d like to have seen that bounce.”

Hanzo almost chokes on his own tongue.

The foreign language gets the couple’s attention and Genji looks up and smiles pleasantly like he wasn’t just shit talking them. It's a game his brother has always loved to play. Hanzo is usually less inclined.

“First time?” He asks cordial, accent faint and charming. The couple nods their heads enthusiastically and smiles. The girl flashes a diamond ring; modest and small by their standards, but Genji still congratulates them.

“Thank you,” The man says, flushing with post-wedding pride. It makes Hanzo want to dry heave and roll his eyes.

“So, how about you and your—boyfriend? First time in Las Vegas?”

The assumption almost makes Hanzo’s heart stop cold. His whole body tenses and his mouth opens to correct them with a stinging barb, but Genji’s talking before he can do such a thing.

“Not our first time in the states, but in Las Vegas, yes. A much-needed vacation was dire.” Genji says, smoothing his hands up Hanzo’s arms in a comforting caress, ushering a fond squeeze to his biceps. “This one gets stressed so easily, gotta get him to unwind every once and awhile, you know?”

Genji doesn’t bother to dispel their assumption, ignoring it completely and it almost seems like he shifts closer to Hanzo even more so, molding his body intimately into Hanzo’s own. Suddenly, the edges of Hanzo’s vision blur and he can see nothing but Genji during that one night months ago.

The elevator chimes and makes Hanzo startle a bit. Thankfully, the couple doesn’t notice how jittery Hanzo is as they exit and say goodbye, wishing them a good night as they walk onto a floor Hanzo’s eyes don't allow him to see. The silence when the couple is gone is painfully tense with the unspoken thing that's been building between them for months. Hanzo stands stock still, trying with all his might to regather himself to the best of his abilities.

“Your heart’s pounding…” Genji whispers, sliding his hand slowly to rest on top of said pounding heart, and it’s too much. Hanzo’s breath stutters in his chest as tries to inhale.

“Calm down anija,” Genji softly teases. He still doesn't think to move and put that much-needed space between them. Instead, his lips brush Hanzo’s ear, threatening to start a fire at the base of his spine that will no doubt consume him if Genji does not stop.

“Genji…” The warning is said on a harsh, ragged breath.

Hanzo is absolutely still, afraid to move because of the conflicting desires that tug his body in two different directions. Hanzo tells himself that Genji doesn’t really want him—that he is just naturally flirtatious and sensual in his own right--but it’s hard to argue with the part of himself that vividly remembers how they were with each other three months ago, how they both hadn’t cared as much as society's norms told them they should’ve.

He can feel Genji getting ready to say something else, but thankfully the elevator bell chimes signaling their arrival to the lobby. Hanzo is quick to detangle himself, stepping out of the small space into fresh air that doesn’t overwhelmingly smell like Genji.

The only thing that keeps Hanzo even remotely calm is the very present weight of cocaine in his jacket pocket.

* * *

The rooms at the Gentlemen’s Club remind Hanzo of the karaoke bars Genji and him frequented often as young teen boys. Or more accurately, the karaoke bars that Genji would drag Hanzo to despite the fact Hanzo hated them.

Of course, the rooms are nicer and cleaned more often, but the memory sticks with Hanzo oddly, like passing through cigarette smoke and catching a whiff of the smell even hours later.

The hostess brings them their finest champagne in an aluminum ice bucket. $15,000 American dollars a bottle and most of it won’t even end up in the glasses.

While they wait for the entertainment, Hanzo busies himself with the distraction of coke. He takes out a small, neatly packaged ziplock pouch and dumps the contents onto the table where he cuts the powder into two neat lines and snorts the one closest to him first.

As soon as Hanzo does, he feels impossibly better; his shoulder sag from their tense, upright position, feels his ever-present anxiety quiet and dull, and suddenly he can face being in a room alone with Genji and look at him longer than two seconds.

Hanzo looks up distractedly at the sound of laughter that captures his attention. Genji is smiling at him from the other side of the L-shaped couch, and Hanzo’s eyes can’t help but linger on him as he scoffs and dips his head to snort the second line up his other nostril.

“Feeling better anija?” Genji asks, bemused.

Hanzo wipes at the underside of his nose with his sleeve, and sucks the residue powder on the pads of his fingers with small kitten licks. Hanzo’s eyes rest heavy on Genji before he flips him off with a smug grin, knocking back a glass of champagne a moment later.

The entertainment arrives shortly there afterwards.

A woman sashays into the room and the first thing Hanzo notices about her is long legs made longer by the tall pumps on her feet. Hanzo slowly leans back, widening the stance of his thighs as his gaze trails along her figure. She is predictably stunning, the typical male fantasy wrapped in a short black mini-dress that hugs her curves and leaves barely anything to the imagination. She smiles at them as she closes the door with the tip of her heel, and Hanzo swears he feels Genji’s hum of approval.

“Hello Gentlemen,” The cadence of her voice is like a caress, soft and enticing. “I’ll be keeping you company this evening.”

The coincidence is not lost on Hanzo that Genji only asked for one entertainer tonight when he’s never done such a thing before. The reminder makes Hanzo’s heart beat heavily inside the cavity of his chest, highly aware of the smirk that never seems to leave Genji’s lips.

The woman quickly makes work of her clothing, slowly lifting the black dress off of her body in a erotic roll. She drops the dress off towards the side, running her hands up her flat stomach, going higher until her hands encompass those round, perky tits. She squeezes them, pushes them together, and bounces them lightly in her grip, all while watching both Hanzo and Genji’s reactions, gaging what they like.

“Real nice,” Genji murmurs, distractedly dragging his thumb along his bottom lip. “Now turn around and show me that ass.”

She follows the order seamlessly, pivoting on her heels as she throws her hair over her shoulder and bends down low. She teases at the G-string along her hips, giving the elastic an enthusiastic _pop_.

“You like my ass? Is it thick enough for you, sir?” Ironically, it's the honorific that gets Hanzo rock hard. Genji seems to find it amusing however as he chuckles good naturedly, nodding his head in wordless agreement.

“So,” Genji begins. “What did you have in mind, sweetheart?”

* * *

“I don’t normally do this,” She tells them, panting. The moan that leaves her lips echoes, feeding the fire that flames between them, making the room all the hotter.

Caught between two hard chests, she writhes and grinds her ass into Hanzo’s crotch while pressing her tits into Genji’s chest, wanting friction and a rough touch.“I don't usually— _ah_ —mess with clients but—fuck, _nngh_ —you're both so— _mmph_ —”

Genji kisses her quiet. His brows furrow with how passionately his tongue feathers alongside her own. It’s wet, the kiss; smacking noises loud and obscene and she mewls into it with a desperation that has Hanzo’s cock twitching against the curve of her behind in pure desire. Hanzo bites into her shoulder when she easily gives up control to Genji’s talented mouth, neck arching back by his ferociousness, fingers tangling into the thick of her hair. The dominance in the movements makes Hanzo harder than anything.

The fingers knuckle deep inside her pussy are almost an afterthought compared to the overwhelming presences of Genji. Hanzo pumps his fingers in fast, vigorous motions, enjoying how she tries to ride his fingers, only to whine in frustration when she can't get them to hit at that angle that Hanzo knows will make her whole body shake.

Chuckling cruelly, Hanzo repeats the gesture over and over, rubbing the pads of his fingers along her spongy walls, avoiding stroking over that sweet spot because she’ll come as soon as he does.

Hanzo jolts in surprise when Genji’s fingers join his own, carefully pushing inside, adjusting to Hanzo’s own tempo. Hanzo’s eyes automatically seek out Genji’s, needing the connection—the intimacy of it—how his cock throbs from just the anticipation alone.

Hanzo needs Genji in this moment like he's never needed anything.

_Look at me...let me see...need you..._

When Genji opens his eyes and their gazes meet, Hanzo can't rightly know what his own expression communicates, but Genji seems to receive the message well enough. His brother hesitates for only a short moment, gaze flickering between Hanzo’s eyes and lips with a charged intensity that Hanzo’s only seen a handful of times.

While the situation is all too familiar, Hanzo and Genji both know they can't excuse their actions like they did in the past. Hanzo isn’t as high for one; a decision that was intentional for this very reason alone, along with the fact that it’s common for users to become impotent after one too many hits. Hanzo once learned that the hard way and has no desire to embarrass himself in such a way in front of Genji.

Genji’s thumb brushes along Hanzo bottom lip, smiling softly at how quickly Hanzo’s lips part, tongue peeking out to lick and taste at his skin. He doesn’t get a chance to suck the digit into his mouth before Genji's on him. He kisses Hanzo like he’s just come home after a long visit away, eager to reacquaint himself with the feel of Hanzo’s tongue and the taste of his mouth after so long.

He hears the woman cursing at this unexpected turn of events vaguely, but it’s like water in Hanzo’s ears. Blood pumps throughout his body, coursing and pooling low in his gut. He tries to anchor himself closer despite the barrier that separates them from crashing into each other.

“Shit— _oh my god_ —okay, that’s hot as hell,” She graciously moves to the side, bringing Hanzo’s fingers with her as she covers his hand with her own and begins to move in his place.

Hanzo’s burning up, practically melting as Genji snares his hand into his hair and wraps it around his fist with a harsh pull. Hanzo moans when Genji attacks his neck, sucking on his wildly beating pulse like he’s trying to break the skin and eat Hanzo whole.

Out of curiosity, Hanzo’s eyes shift to the woman who’s currently full of his fingers. Her face is flushed as she watches them with bright, rapt eyes. He wonders if this has ever happened to her while working a shift. He thinks not.

“You two are so gorgeous,” She says, out of breath and wispy.

Hanzo doesn’t care anymore if she comes or not--thinks she probably deserves it as his fingers thrust up into her sopping wet pussy, hitting at that angle he denied her before. The sound of Genji’s amused chuckle and her euphoric moan overlap, making Hanzo sway on his feet in dizzying arousal.

“I bet you're even more gorgeous when you come,” Genji murmurs, his voice sin. He reaches out, running his hand along her toned thigh. He lifts her leg, anchoring it to rest on the shelf of his hip so Hanzo can twist his fingers in deeper and find that spot that’ll have her gushing.

“Oh— _oh fuck_ —oh god, yes,” She shouts, rising on her toes as she claws at both of Hanzo’s and Genji’s biceps, trusting them to hold her weight as she writhes, hips chasing after that small little death.

“Come on sweetheart,” Genji hums, tongue sweeping over his lips. “Spray all over his fingers. Look at him; he wants it so much.” Genji goads, panting hot and heavy. His hand encompasses her generous behind, squeezing her ass, feeling it spill from between his fingers. It's easy to slip in-between her cheeks, seeking out that tight pucker that he circles with the pad of his middle finger.

She throws her head back, screaming as Genji’s finger screws into her ass, prompting her to flood Hanzo’s hand. She allows for her orgasm to overwhelm her, eyes rolling back into her skull before her lashes flutter shut with a tortured moan.

It’s the least they can do for her—a common courtesy when in the next moment, their attention focuses solely on each other.

* * *

Genji goes easily when Hanzo manhandles him onto his knees on the couch. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he looks back over the curve of his shoulder, gaze coy and sultry.

The hands on his body are warm and possessive, making his back arch in a severe dip that Hanzo traces over with his tongue, practically worshiping in a mix of bites and licks.

Genji writhes, spreading his legs as wide as he can on the leather couch, eager for Hanzo’s cock to be back inside of him. He feels frustratingly empty, open and loose; Hanzo has fucked him on practically every inch of this room before pulling out and moving him around as his heart desires.

While Genji appreciates getting fucked six ways from Sunday, he needs to come.

“H-Hanzo, c’mon—you—you're fucking killing me,” Genji whines, pushing his ass back, placing his hand on the curve as he spreads himself wide, hoping it’ll be enough to entice Hanzo.

It's just the trick.

Hanzo grips his hips hard, anchoring his foot onto the couch by Genji’s calf as he sinks back into the scorching heat of Genji’ ass. He sobs with how good it feels, hands clawing at the crest roll of the couch as his ass is slammed into over and over again.

“ _Ohhh_ , god yeah, fuck me, fuck me—”

Genji breaks off on a shrill shout as Hanzo’s hand embeds itself into the thick of his hair, roughly tugging his head back and using the leverage to fuck into Genji harder. The sound of Hanzo’s balls hitting his ass staccatos with an fevered urgency, only serving to boil Genji’s blood hotter, leaving him feeling boneless.

“Hmm,” Genji hums lowly, breath shuddering out of his lungs in tandem with Hanzo’s thrusting hips. “We should’ve done this years ago—you feel so fucking good,  _haaa_ , fuck yes…”

The tickle of Hanzo’s lips on the shell of his ear is enough for Genji’s cock to jerk and have his entire being erupt into shivers. He presses his lips together in a muffled moan as Hanzo tugs at his hair again, maneuvering his head to the side so he can husk into Genji’s ear.

It's almost too much—this maddening desire he has for his brother—how Genji is finally getting what he wants.

“Anija,” Genji whimpers, mouth falling open as Hanzo’s tongue laves over his ear in filthy strokes.

“Dirty little slut,” Hanzo grunts, grabbing the underside of Genji’s jaw and yanking him to the side. His hips pick up pace, pounding into Genji’s ass with a brutality that makes Genji positively shake with his impending orgasm. He's so close to coming, feels it bubbling right behind his skin. “You like that? Gonna come on my cock?” Hanzo rumbles.

Genji tries to nod his head, delights when finds he can't.

“ _Yes_. Yes, god yes. Hanzo—!”

Even in this short amount of time, Hanzo seems to know Genji’s body better than any lover he’s ever had. He knows how to fuck Genji just right—he is fucking Genji just right—and in a second flat, Genji’s moaning raggedly with his mouth wide open, pushing his ass back, and coming all over himself like it was his first time.

Genji screams hoarsely when Hanzo’s fingers replace his cock, milking out his orgasm by rubbing over his prostate, setting his nerves on fire with lighter fluid.

“Anija!”

“That’s right,” Hanzo hears himself grunt, fingers pivoting harder and faster. “That’s _right_.”

Genji gasps brokenly as his cock weeps onto the leather below him, jerking from over stimulation. He practically melts into the couch when Hanzo’s deems himself done. The feeling of his brother coming on his ass, then slapping his cock in-between Genji’s cheeks and spreading the mess with the fat head of his cock makes Genji whimper pathetically, wanting him despite his body's need to catch up.

There's a distinct feminine whistle that catches their attention.

It's the woman; temporarily forgotten but continuously present—background noise until now. A hand rests between her spread legs, the other leisurely massages one of her breasts, rolling her nipple between her fingers. The grin on her face is satisfied and tiredly pleased.

“Please, don't stop on my account.” She softly says. “You still have an hour left...much more time for whatever you have in mind.”


End file.
